Spelling As a Competitive Sport

People who know me well will know that I am a bit of a sports junkie. As in, I am the kind of person who will be happy to put ESPN on in the background, and I am someone who follows a wide variety of sports - football, tennis, basketball, golf, and even more random ones like table tennis and badminton. ESPN has been extending their coverage to such non-traditional sports as pool, snooker, bowling and darts (all of which I must admit I do rather enjoy watching as a kind of guilty pleasure), but even I was taken aback when I turned on the TV the other evening to be confronted with the ultimate clash of the titans, 48 individuals battling it out for the ultimate grand prize: the US National Spelling Bee trophy.

Traditionalists ("It ain't a sport unless you sweat while doing it") will laugh, but there was something rather captivating about seeing 13 and 14 year olds (some as young as 9) puzzling out words which were, quite honestly baffling, even to those who believe they have a considerable grasp of the English language. That spelling is a competitive sport, as unlikely as that might sound, was soon evident from the contestants.

Many of them were familiar with Latin and Greek root and derivatives, better to ensure not being caught out by tricky words; a number of them were making their second, third or even fourth appearance at the National Spelling Bee, with previous experience seen as a bonus (is experience a key factor, well just ask any golfer or tennis player yet to win a major). Nerves were evident, unsurprising given the one mistake and you're out see you next year format of the competition. It was often tension filled and pressure packed - there was even a psychologist on hand to counsel the distressed, some visibly distraught after they were literally "rung out" by the dreaded bell, signifying they had made a misstep puzzling out some fiendish word or another.

Just how difficult was it? I am not a great speller, laziness and Microsoft Word spellcheck has seen to that, but I do think I have a fair vocabulary. By the third and fourth elimination rounds (when the difficulty was increased) I would have probably gotten between a third to a half of the words wrong. This put me just about par for the competition as a whole. No doubt, these were 13 and 14 year olds, so I should feel ashamed at my ignorance, but in my defense, some of the contestants admitted to more or less sleeping with a Miriam-Webster by their bedsides, and spending arduous amounts of preparation in advance of the competition.

That said, I have kept a little notebook which I have filled with puzzling and interesting words that I had not previously come across. I have always meant to check out their meanings and etymologies, if only to expand my vocabulary. I have also meant to get to the roots of language, literally and metaphorically, to actually learn the building blocks (what is an adverb, what on earth is a past participle?) of grammar. Perhaps watching the US National Spelling Bee will inspire me to renew my efforts in this.

15 Books

I've succumbed to yet another Facebook meme that has gone rabid. This one can be basically called 15 Books. You are supposed to choose 15 books that you love, or that had a major influence on your life. It was a very difficult task for me, given how much I enjoy reading, but here is the list I've come up with:

1. The Lord of the Rings | J.R.R Tolkien
2. Dune | Frank Herbert
3. The Sandman Graphic Novels | Neil Gaiman
4. The Passion | Jeanette Winterson
5. Housekeeping | Marilynne Robinson
6. Atonement | Ian McEwan
7. Disgrace | J.M Coetzee
   
8. The Remains of the Day | Kazuo Ishiguro
   
9. The Great Gatsby | F. Scott Fitzgerald
   
10. The Things They Carried | Tim O'Brien
11. In Cold Blood | Truman Capote
    
12. King Lear | William Shakespeare
13. Ex Libris | Anne Fadiman
    
14. A Wrinkle in Time | Madeleine L'Engle
    
15. True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle | Avi

Two books that probably influenced me greatly but which are too embarrassing to list: The Firm by John Grisham (it was the very first "adult" novel I ever read after I picked it up off my mother's shelf) and Kane and Abel by Jeffrey Archer (I read through the night trying to finish it, fell asleep, woke up around lunch and carried on where I had left off).

Near Misses: A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters by Julian Barnes, Practical Ethics by Peter Singer, Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George, Bartholomew and the 500 Hats by Dr Seuss, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisevitch by Alexander Solzhenitsyn

Love Condensed?

On certain occasions, fiction mirrors reality to a rather uncanny extent. We quote music lyrics because sometimes they express what we feel in a more direct and pithy way that we otherwise manage. So I found this passage in Julian Barnes's England England, which I am now reading:

Martha knew exactly what she wanted: truth, simplicity, love, kindness, companionship, fun, and good sex was how the list might start. She also knew that such list making was daft; normally human but still daft. So while her heart opened, her mind had remained anxious. Paul behaved as if their relationship were already a given: its parameters decided, its purpose certain, all problems strictly for the future. She recognized this trait all too well, the blithe urgency to get on with being a couple before the constituent parts and workings of coupledom had been established. She had been here before. Part of her wished she hadn't; she felt burdened by her own history

Couldn't have put my current feelings more accurately and concisely that what Barnes has written. Fiction mirroring reality.

Soft Landing

My mother told me about the death of Elisha Chng the other day, and I was quite shocked. It was a surreal sensation reading about him in the afternoon papers - about how he played rugby and was a male model, though I was annoyed at the tone of idle speculation, the he seemed to have it all, so why? I used to play with Elisha when we were young children - our families were close. I remember giving him a bucket of G.I. Joes when he left for Africa with his family - his father was a missionary sent there to proselytize. I've written this poem as a form of remembrance and tribute. Note it is still a work in progress. Comments and suggestions on the poem (and how to improve it!) are welcome.

Soft Landing

for Elisha Chng

I knew you but briefly
more a presence, a memory,
than something solid,
until the thump of your landing
in the afternoon papers -
dry words of baffled condolence
leavened with concrete.

It was surreal to discover
the grown up you, secondhand -
rugger, model, all action hero,
rather like the G.I Joes
we played with as kids –
a bucketful my parting gift
as you left for Africa.

You weren’t a close friend or confidant –
nothing to warrant
this extravagance of verse;
still, I offer this wreath -
wraith like memories
thinly plucked
an antidote to idle speculation:
of why, what, waste
seeking some absolution
better found
in quiet remembrance.

Mexican Banditry

The sister, CL, and myself met at Holland Village for lunch, and given the usual ding dong backwards and forwards discussion of where to eat, I plumped for Mexican. Holland Village itself has two Mexican restaurants sitting plumb right beside one another. Family tradition has dictated that we always dine at El Patio, which has a slightly more homely feel compared to Cha Cha Cha which was reputed to serve food that was less than authentic.

That age old tradition was to be broken today. We arrived at El Patio and stood outside briefly perusing the menu. The restaurant was completely empty, rather dire for a Sunday afternoon. We could blatantly see the one staff member on duty inside the restaurant, sitting at one of the tables, doing her damnedest to blithely ignore us. Even when we stood there for five minutes and began staring straight are her. I finally made irritated waving motions and she slowly and very reluctantly began to rise from her slouch, by which time me and the sister were so irritated, we walked away.

It was thus that we came to dine at Cha Cha Cha. The service was admittedly much more prompt. We were soon shown to a table. That, if anything, could explain why they had 6 or 7 tables occupied to El Patio's none. All was going rather well. Until the food came. I had ordered the mixed combo - one hard taco with beef, one chicken burrito. By the time I was half way through the hard taco, I was confronted with stringy bits of meat at the bottom, which was so tasteless, I couldn't remember whether I had ordered the beef or the chicken with the taco, and quite honestly, on taste alone I couldn't tell. I guessed it was beef based on the coloration, and nothing else. My sister was similar unenthused about her meal - her rice wasn't quite to her liking, and the refried beans tasted like they had probably been refried one too many times. The result was poor CL being subjected to a litany of complaints about the food from the two of us.

So, the puzzling question for us remained: how did these two establishments survive for longer than a decade at Holland Village, given the poor food in one, and the poor service in the latter (though the poor service at El Patio was probably due to a change in management). More importantly, where can Caleb and the sister go if they want some good mexican food? There is of course the Cafe Iguana, near Clarke Quay and with a newly opened outlet on Greenwood, which is decent. But we're looking for really authentic Mexican, stuff which can vaguely measure up to what we had when we spent a few months in Texas. Can anyone help us with our conondum, please do send recommendations. We need to eat proper Mexican after the debacle that was Cha Cha Cha.

My Simple Pleasures

It all started when CL sent an SMS commenting about the simple joys of gelato, and watching happy dogs and exuberant children frolic about, with a subsequent query about what my simple pleasures were. Conventional wisdom tells us to count our blessings, a simple old as apple pie piece of advice that has been echoed by countless self-help and positive psychology books centering on how we can achieve happiness. Admittedly though, having the question posed so starkly gave me pause, though it hardly took me all that long to reply. What I can up with was:

reading a good book, watching an enjoyable movie in the cinema, browsing in a bookstore or a library, watching a play or a concert, holding someone you care about deeply, my dog wagging her tail and bringing me her toy ball whenever I step through the door, a beer in the pub with some friends, dinner at a nice restaurant with good company, meeting new and interesting people, catching up with old friends, randomly bumping into someone on a street corner, the thrill of pulling out a random piece of trivia or information, sleeping in, sharing a bottle of wine with company, staying up late doing absolutely nothing, spur of the moment decisions, suppers, lazy Sundays, reading the news, heartfelt kisses, the fresh smell of a brand new book and the musty smell of an old one, pretty notebooks, dry humour, long rambling discussions, sitting and watching the stars, hiking and walking, visiting new places, lovely little cafes and eateries

Of course the list doesn't end there. But the rather long list shows that as cynical as you care to be, there are lots of little things in life that inherently make it worth living.

When Harry Dumped Sally

I was having a random chat with M. when we both mentioned that we really enjoyed When Harry Met Sally. Which is unsurprising given that it is a cult romantic comedy classic but surprising given that we are both a little bit cynical and jaded, and don't ordinarily watch rom coms.

The cynical side of us did come through of course. Like in any romantic comedy, the two protagonists end up together at the end. That wasn't a spoiler. If you are watching a rom com you know it is going to happen. Anyhow, I mentioned that I always thought that Harry and Sally would divorce after say 5 years of marriage because they would start to drive each other nuts. M said that she always thought that it would happen that way too. Of course given that the American divorce rate is hovering at about 50%, we have a odds on chance of being right.

So we started imagining what would happen after the credits rolled. So they divorce after 5 years but what do they do then? Perhaps Sally buys a dog to help her get over the break-up and she meets a lovely guy while walking the dog in the park one day. M was like no no maybe Sally turns lesbian (being so put out by men after Harry) and meets this really hot chick and ends up with her! Maybe they meet while Sally is walking her dog.

As for Harry. Well, he probably leaves New York and goes out of state in order to try to find himself. M wanted him to turn fat, and lose his job and be miserable. But, he needs some kind of redeeming quality too. What if he turns gay as well? I tell M. that we can't have both of them turn gay as that will go beyond the bounds of all credibility. Maybe he joins a hippie commune or loses himself in Zen Buddhism.

Where we can agree is that Harry and Sally don't end up back together. We are too realistic and cynical for us to believe or even want that to happen. Life doesn't always imitate the movies. I proposed the title When Harry Dumped Sally as suitably nice. M did say that even she found the idea and the title depressing. It would make her lose all hope in love. Which probably means that it won't sell.

I've always harboured secret dreams of writing a screenplay. Why not write a cheap sequel to a cult classic. Goodness knows it has been done often enough before! I'll just go check on the availability of Rob Reiner to direct, and of course Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal to star......